


Elisol Project Prologue #1

by WhiskeyNeet



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeyNeet/pseuds/WhiskeyNeet
Summary: Adair and Aira have their first duel.





	Elisol Project Prologue #1

Adair, the half orc, and Aira, the songbird were at opposite ends of the company sparring hall. The two were having their first live weapons duel, only a year into their five year training curriculum. Feet squared with their shoulders, loose wrist, yet strong grips on the hilt of the birdfolk scimitars that the Flock use during active duty.  
  
“Don’t go easy on me!” the songbird chirped, ruffling her feathers and making herself look bigger.

“Don’t count on it.” Adair smiled, revealing his tusk.

 

The bell rang, and the two approached each other, flourishing their blades. The swords clashed, sending sparks flying. Adair smirked and pushed his attack on the small songbird. Her specialty was healing. This would be easy.

 

“Push back, Little One!” The Owl-like instructor shouted, stomping his talons on the stone floor of the hall. “Don’t let him walk over you like that.”

 

Taking the advice of her instructor, Aira planted her talons and pushed an attack during Adair’s recovery. Throwing the Orc off balance, she jumped up, flapping over her opponent and smacking the helmet off his head. Adair wasn’t one to buckle that easily. Recovering from his friend’s blow to his helmet, he whipped around to parry the blow that the songbird slung at his back. Easily blocking her attack, the Orc backed up, giving himself space to thrust.

 

Thrust!

 

Clang!   
  


A glancing blow caused Adair’s sword to shatter, as Aira’s sword slid down the remainder of his blade and onto her partner’s hand. Adair cried out in shock, Aira in disbelief. The match was called, Aira’s win! The Flock ran to assess Adair’s injury. Being a half Orc, the youngman inherited the Orcish healing factor, so no matter how serious his injury, if he had the willpower and the support, he could recover from it. This was bad, though. His upper palm and fingers were separated from the rest of his hand.

 

Aira sang a healing song as the class dispersed, and the instructor held Adair’s severed hand to his bloody stump. The flesh slowly grew back, allowing the muscle and bone to regenerate under the skin. 

 

“The problem with regrowing muscle,” Adair sighed as the songbird sang her jaunty healing melody. “Is that I’ll be weaker until I can build back the muscle mass I had before the accident.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Adair!” Aira chirped, rubbing a painkilling slave on the scar tissue that had formed during the healing. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is.” The instructor hooted. “His nerves are severed, and he’s unable to regrow them as easily as flesh and bone. You may have crippled the poor boy.”

“Don’t worry her like that, sir.” The orc shook his head. “I’ve never been fond of swords anyway. Too heavy. Maybe I’ll pick up archery instead.”


End file.
